A First Time For Everything
by Rhianwen
Summary: Of course, she's seen it coming for days now. And of course, at the first sight of the feather, she found herself reduced to a blushing, stammering child. Sugarysweet, cutesy DoctorElli fluff.


A First Time For Everything

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Summary: "Doctor, I think someone's left a Blue Feather on my desk." Sugary-sweet Doctor/Elli fluff.

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When she caught sight of the flash of bright blue that morning, tucked carefully in amongst the profusion of papers strewn over her desk, Elli didn't think much if it. Instead, she surreptitiously rubbed the sleep from her eyes after a quick peek over her shoulder to make sure the doctor wasn't watching, and settled in to work.

When she pulled a stack of memos and pharmaceutical order forms towards her and watched, astounded, as a Blue Feather tumbled out to land lightly in her lap, she was barely able to think at all. Aside, of course, from the thought that her crazy, secret, wistful little wish, spinning deliriously out of control and growing into a fierce hope since the beach a few evenings ago, finally had a fighting chance of being realized.

When the doctor came downstairs that morning, dark hair typically mussed but clothes as neatly ironed as they somehow always mysteriously were, to find her staring blankly at the unoffending flash of blue, he asked lightly if something was wrong.

But when she turned to look at him, she thought hazily that he might be avoiding her eyes. And weren't the corners of his mouth quirking up just a little bit?

"Doctor, I think someone's left a Blue Feather on my desk," she announced very matter-of-factly, holding it up, eyes wide and grave.

He hid a smile.

"It looks like you're right."

"Do you think it was meant for me?"

This question made him – almost – blink in surprise. He wondered helplessly if he hadn't made things clear enough. It had seemed very obvious to him, but he wasn't a woman, and made no claims to know how they thought. As for _this_ woman, she had always been a little bit this way. A very fine line between charming modesty and exasperating self-deprecation that she crossed more often than a less patient someone would have put up with. Without strangling her, anyway.

"I think it must have been. It wasn't there last night, was it?"

"I-I don't think so…"

"I doubt someone would have been near your desk last night without a reason."

She looked down, spinning the feather slowly between her fingers, and watching it intently. She had never been very good at games, but honestly! Did he expect her to explicitly accept an implied proposal? And just where did he get off, deciding out of nowhere that _he_ liked games?

"Who do you think left it?"

He smiled to himself, and if she had chanced to look up, she might have seen his eyes just the way she liked them best – warm and kind, with a tiny hint of laughter glimmering down at her.

"Well, the best way to figure that out is to ask a few important questions. First, have you been expecting this from anyone?"

She made a strange noise, and he wondered in slightly absent concern if she was _actually_ choking to death, or if she just sounded like it.

"I...I don't really know," she finally managed.

Once again, he barely managed to halt a startled blink in its tracks.

"Alright, then. I suppose the next obvious question would be, has there been public knowledge of any Blue Feathers being sold in town recently?"

"Yes; three," she replied immediately. It had taken Manna approximately half an hour to spread word throughout Mineral Town after Gray's purchase, despite the boy's efforts to be subtle and secretive.

Kai and Rick had made no such attempts.

"But the recipients of those are already known, right?"

"Um. Yes," she agreed, wincing in alternate amusement and terror at the thought of the reactions of the aforementioned recipients, particularly Karen, had this been otherwise.

It was simply a good thing, she thought in all the infinite wisdom of twenty-three years, that Rick seemed to _like_ being the object of such fearsome possessiveness. But then, if anyone could get away with something like that, it was Karen. Somehow, Karen managed to get away with everything.

It must be the eyes, Elli thought, thus proving conclusively that she had absolutely no concept of the workings of the male mind, which would tend to focus like moth to shiny thing on a set of something located decidedly below the eyes.

Nevertheless, in her ponderings of male psychology and amateur couples' therapy, she managed to completely miss the doctor's next gentle suggestion.

"So, if you're sure you haven't been expecting this, and you know that none of the feathers discussed in Rose Square recently are for you, you might want to ask yourself, who would you most _likely_ expect this from? If you had to say?"

"That is a good question," the little brunette admitted with exaggeratedly careful consideration, finally making up her mind to play along and letting her eyes sparkle up into his as she stood. "It would have to be someone with a very strong grasp of practicality. And someone who values a useful, sensible girl over a breathtaking beauty or a dazzling wit. Maybe someone just a little bit desperate, and willing to settle," she finished, almost before the thought had fully formed, and without any idea of exactly how it had slipped out.

The gentle amusement, previously masked by carefully polite interest, vanished completely from the young man's face. He caught her arm and pulled her closer.

"Listen. I'm not _desperate_, and I'm not _settling_. And," he added, pulling the feather from her grasp and wondering at the urge to tickle her nose, "you're not getting this back until you can tell me that you know that."

She watched, caught somewhere between teary-eyed and furious as he turned and walked quickly toward his office. Furious easily trounced teary-eyed.

"Timothy Cuthbert, where do you think you're going with my Blue Feather!" she demanded, hurrying after him.

This time he did blink, _and_ yelp, _and_ stumble a little, unsure of whether to laugh or be terrified when five foot four of angry female caught his sleeve and yanked him back.

To his credit, he caught his bearings remarkably quickly for a man being roughed up by a sweet, unassuming, mild-mannered little nurse.

"Well?" he asked, raising one eyebrow slightly.

"Alright," she murmured, fighting the urge to look away again. "I know you're not desperate _or_ settling for less. Or looking for the most convenient alternative, or trying to improve the efficiency of our working relationship, or trying to win a housekeeper, or marrying me because you want to rent out the other room, or—"

"Tell me you didn't honestly believe that," he said with a disbelieving laugh, expression a little pained. "Especially the last one."

Of all the reasons to share a room with this girl, that was certainly not the first on his mind. Far too often recently. Specifically, every night that he was treated to the sound of the soft, silly, but oddly soothing little songs she seemed to enjoy making up as she moved about on the other side of a paper-thin wall, getting ready for bed. Not to mention the almost inaudible noise of clothes landing on the floor that rarely failed to set his imagination to work with or without his consent.

Hadn't he always been told that he was _such_ an imaginative little boy?

And cursed with impeccable hearing?

She laughed, the sound catching slightly on that strange knot gathering in her throat.

"Not really."

"Alright, then." Catching and holding her gaze, he held the feather up between them. "Will you?"

The little blue object fluttered harmlessly to the ground as she hurled herself at him, arms winding tightly around his middle, and pressed her cheek to his shoulder, breathing in deeply the sweetbitter herbal scents that clung to him at all times, defiant of repeated washings.

He stumbled back again beneath the sudden impact, and laughed softly, one hand resting lightly on her hair. This whole business of proposing was playing havoc with his dignity. But, he thought as her hands bunched at his shirt front and she pulled him closer to deliver a barrage of ecstatic, sweet girlish kisses, he could deal with that once in a while.

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"Geez, what gives?" Jack muttered, vaguely annoyed, hoisting his emptied rucksack over his shoulder and glancing at the door of the clinic again.

Nine-thirty, and still no sign of the doctor to unlock the door and draw up the window blinds.

So much for _a quick stop_ before heading back to work.

"Weird," he shrugged, turning away. "They've never been late before."

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End Notes: Hoo boy, I knew I'd end up turning Jack into Zidane Tribal…

She said, hoping to divert everyone's attention from the fact that she has no grasp whatsoever on the doctor's characterization. XD

That aside, the doctor's name is Tim, right? Because I'm sure I heard that somewhere. And I just threw in Cuthbert for a last name because it sounded good at the time. Oh, right; and I put Elli's age at twenty-three, but that's probably wrong, so if anyone out there knows it, I'd appreciate a correction. :)


End file.
